Revelation Exodus
by Hieda no Akyuu
Summary: A former human weapons operator of a Rebel heavy cruiser warship breaks out of a remote Federation prison station, two years after the decisive battle in which a single Federation Kestrel defeated the Rebel Flagship. With no home to return to and nowhere to hide, the operator is a rebel without a cause, and he can die as an escaped convict or find something else to work towards...
1. Prison Break

**A/N:**

**I don't know how many hundreds of hours I have playing this game, but I feel like it's time I've written a fanfic on it.**

**This story will use elements of the Captain's Edition mod(s) and other mods for FTL. Not all, but a few. As fun as those mods are, I still prefer the simplicity of what vanilla and AE FTL have to offer. In addition, there may be some breaking of game mechanics for the sake of the story, but hopefully this will be kept to a minimum to stay in spirit of the game.  
**

**Lastly, I'm nowhere near the sci-fi geek I ought to be to write a fanfic about a sci-fi game. But I'll try my best anyway.**

**-Akyuu no Joshu**

* * *

_**"SECURITY BREACH DETECTED. PRISON-WIDE LOCKDOWN IS NOW IN EFFECT. ALL ARMED PERSONNEL REPORT TO YOUR STATIONS. ALL PRISONERS FOUND OUTSIDE THEIR ROOMS WILL BE - "**  
_

A few blasts of energy bullets splatters over the security console in the control room, silencing the robotic voice screaming over the PA system.

"We have less than ten minutes to reach the prison spacedocks," one of the pair of prisoners sporting a yellowish orange prisoner outfit and holding an AE-4 directed energy assault rifle stolen from one of the prison guards yells, kicking the dead prison guard inside the control room to make sure he isn't moving anymore. "C'mon!"

"Hold on, we have to override the spacedocks' service doors!" the other prisoner, putting down his R1-A2 railgun pistol on the top of the console, quickly gets to work typing on a touch-keyboard on the console.

"Huh? Wait, why? Those cruisers sitting in those docks are strong enough to bust through those doors by themselves! We don't have time for this, the security teams'll be right on top of our asses asap! You wanna get outta this shithole alive, don't you?!"

"Then fucking leave me and go join the others down at the spacedocks! If we're gonna escape from this place, I'd rather prison-break out on a ship that'll actually stand a chance to get us home instead of floating out there in the middle of space on ten percent hull integrity!"

The prisoner with the energy rifle grimaces. "Your funeral, dude. Meet us down there if you can!" he calls, hurrying out of the control room to join the dozens of prisoners overrunning the initial security teams to reach the spacedocks, where several Federation cruisers are docked on the service platforms for refuel and repair.

Alone in the control room, the remaining prisoner works quickly to grant himself access of the control of the service doors. His eyes flick back and forth urgently from the keyboard to the hologram screen hovering over the console, his fingers getting used to typing again from the past two years of being denied usage of any technological gadgets. But despite his rusty typing, the prisoner manages to override the security lockdown and open up the service doors. They should be open by the time he reaches the spacedocks.

The yells and shouts of the backup security teams arriving on scene alerts the prisoner, and he knows he can't stay in the control room for much longer. Picking up his stolen R1-A2 rail pistol to defend himself, the prisoner dashes out of the control room and runs down the metal corridors being illuminated by flashing red alarm lights all along the ceiling. They'd spent the last year or so carefully studying and memorizing the layout of the prison: dash right, take the next left, keep going straight until you hit the T-intersection of the halls, and then take another right and keep going straight until you see the service elevators that take you straight down to the service spacedocks.

The sudden appearance of a squad of Federation prison guards to the prisoner's right just as he is about to reach the service elevator lobby catches him off guard, but the prisoner performs a combat roll forward to escape the energy bullets fired at him. His heart pounding, he slams his palm onto the elevator call panel, and to his good luck, one of the elevators that have not been used opens up behind him immediately. He dives in and repeatedly slaps the "close elevator doors" button until the doors close, just in time, too, right as the guards storm into the service elevator lobby and catch a glimpse of him disappearing behind the elevator doors. The doors shake with the impacts of energy bullets thudding against it, but there is little that energy ammunition of rifle caliber can do to pierce through four-inch reinforced titanium steel.

Reaching the spacedocks, the prisoner emerges to find himself witnessing the final moments of a brief but fierce firefight that has taken place in his absence. Just as planned, the service doors are now open, and the breathtaking scenic view of the northern side of a lush, green and blue planet floating in a star-studded black abyss presents itself. But now is not the time to be sightseeing; the prisoner pockets his railgun pistol, stoops to pick up the dropped AE-4 energy rifle from the hands of a dead prison guard in front of him, and vaults over the railing to slide down to the dock platforms, where four Federation cruisers are docked, their repairs and servicing only recently being completed. Three of the ships are the new Federation Cruiser Type C's: one of them is the older Type C-1, and the other two are the newer Type C-2s. The fourth ship is the aged but venerable Federation Kestrel, the same type of ship of the famous Federation Kestrel that single-handedly destroyed the flagship of the Rebellion.

"Heads up, more fatties inbound from the elevators!" the prisoner yells as he tumbles forward and gets to his feet quickly once he hits the platform. The term "fatty" is the prisoners' nickname for the prison guards, who have been infamous for their frequent eating habits during their patrols and thus have been the butt of many jokes among those behind bars. The surviving prisoners, alerted by his call, face towards the direction of the service elevator lobby with their energy rifles raised as the prisoners who were former pilots clamber into the four cruisers to start their engines. The prisoner himself enters the nearest cruiser he can reach, and as soon as he steps foot inside the cruiser, his prisoner buddy from the control room speaks over the intercom,

_"I've got the piloting controls, we need to charge the FTL! Get on the engines so we can make that baby charge faster! It's at the stern, go!"_

The prisoner heads to the engine room, following the directions labeled on the walls. He can hear the sharp reports of AE-4 energy rifles and EPM-1 energy carbines screaming at each other in the spacedocks, as the prisoners outside cover their comrades attempting to hijack and assume control of the Federation cruisers. Sitting down at the engine console, the prisoner drops his rifle on the floor and boots up the computer to get to work charging the FTL for their new ship. The engine exhaust gears of all four cruisers are warming up, emitting bright purplish-red fumes as their FTLs are nearing safe deployment levels.

_"It's almost done! Wolf, go outside and tell our boys to board the cruisers! We're gonna be airborne in thirty!"_

Wolf dashes out of the engine room to the side hull entrance that he has used to enter the ship, and keeping his head down once he emerges, he slides over to a small squad of prisoners taking cover behind large metal crates that once carried spent FTL cells for recycling.

"We're good! C'mon, we gotta go, we gotta go!" Wolf yells over the engines of the cruisers that are growing louder and louder. The prisoners flash him a thumbs up, and they shout at their surviving comrades to fall back to the cruisers. The prisoners board the cruisers, shutting the doors behind them, and the engines scream, their exhaust fumes blasting and creating pillars of high-temperature gases that scorch the spacedock platforms behind them. The surviving guards attempt to fire at the ships with their rifles and carbines, but knowing that they're just wasting their time, the sergeants bark orders to their guards, and the guards swarm the platform, capturing the wounded prisoners on the spacedocks who are still alive. The ships pull away from the docks, sailing out through the overridden service doors and out into the artificial atmosphere of the orbital prison station.

_"We're not out of it yet, they're gonna use the prison's defense systems to try to shoot us down on our way out!" _Wolf's pilot calls to the other pilots of the hijacked cruisers. _"Wolf, we don't have time to power this ship's weapon systems to defend ourselves while we ditch this place! You gotta work those engines like you've never worked 'em before!"_

Wolf glances at the monitor of his console, his heart pounding in his neck.

No weapons, no way to defend themselves, and no choice but to run away. He's been in this situation so many times before that he's surprised he's still alive after all that. And now, yet again, he finds himself in another situation exactly like before.

The console is estimating a 30% probability of dodging incoming attacks. Seeing that the engines aboard this ship has Level 3 engine power, and seeing that he's never been thoroughly trained in engine usage before, the pilot up there in at the port must be an experienced pilot. Either way, 30% chance is a decent chunk of luck to get themselves out. So long as they don't hit the piloting or the engines...

_"Brace, brace!" _the pilot yells over the intercom, and their ship shudders terribly, the distant sound of crunching metal shrieking from somewhere on the ship. _"Fuck, that was a goddamn Breach missile, and they took out our sensors! You two in Shielding, get over there and put out those fires, we don't have any door controls on board!"_

The dull popping sounds of burst lasers and heavy lasers punching against the shields of the ships can be heard, but the sounds fade away slowly as they fly further into the outermost layers of the artificial atmosphere.

_"Shit, they just took out that Federation cruiser next to us...I think Macky 'n his boys were on that one, poor bastards, they just took a couple heavy lasers to their engines. Nothing we can do for 'em now," _the pilot says. _"FTL in ten!"_

Wolf works madly at the engine console. Damn thing, it won't charge the FTL any faster if he tried.

_"FTL Drive is online, thrusters engaged!"_

The FTL exhaust pipes glow white, and the surviving three vessels disappear from the prison station's atmosphere into the dark, starry horizon of deep space.

* * *

In Earth year 2199, the human race developed sophisticated enough technology to make space travel within their own solar system possible, and throughout the 23rd century, the solar system saw an extensive, perhaps even aggressive, colonization by the human beings. As long as it wasn't a gas giant, every single solid astronomical body in the solar system was colonized and developed - even on Pluto. Not to mention, thousands, if not tens or even hundreds of thousands of orbital space stations were constructed and set into orbit around every single planet in the solar system, for utilities anywhere from remote research facilities to purely vacation suites. But as wonderful as human technology had become, space travel beyond their own solar system was risky at best, and human researchers, scientists, and engineers across the solar system sought to invent and construct a new space-travel technology that would take the human race beyond the boundaries of their own solar system. Such was the zeitgeist during those days, as the motto "we must break out of our galactic cage!" resounded from the boiling surface of Mercury to the icy plateaus of Pluto.

The humans found out that their little motto during the 23rd century, for better or for worse, was to turn out to be ironically true, for the key to their galactic cage would be provided to them, not developed on their own. During the first opening decades of the 24th century, rumors were spreading throughout the solar system about sightings of aliens appearing and disappearing mysteriously in various places throughout the system. The first such sighting was at the Northern Hemisphere of Jupiter, near the Agireda Research Station #17, whose scientists on board snapped incredibly detailed photos of the alien cruiser seemingly sitting randomly about three miles in front of the station. Many of these sightings were not like sketchy UFO sightings of the 20th and 21st century; these sightings left no doubt in most humans' minds that it was time for them to encounter alien lifeforms visiting them from the far corners of the universe. But so far, whoever or whatever these aliens were, they'd yet to show themselves.

They finally did in Earth year 2352, when an entire fleet of alien cruisers suddenly showed up in Earth's atmosphere over Paris, France. These aliens, much to the humans' surprise, didn't come to conquer them, and they weren't quite what the humans were expecting either. What greeted the President of France was a small team of...robots. Well, technically, sentient beings made of nanobots that gave them the appearance of robots, but not quite robots. The explanation is complicated, to say the least. They greeted the French President with fluent French, having spent a small part of those decades since they were first sighted learning about human languages by listening into human radio transmissions and inter-planetary communications. From there, they greeted the United Nations, the overarching interplanetary government body that governed the human race, and the humans officially formed an alliance with the alien robotic/organic species known as the Engis.

The Engis explained that in human time, they had invented a method of universal travel by means of a special propulsion system known simply as the "FTL Drive" some 4000 years before their first contact with the humans. To this day, no one is really sure what the acronym "FTL" really means, as the Engis have never specified such information themselves. It seems perhaps even they are not too aware of it themselves, but because it is not a matter of importance to them, the acronym's full name is lost to history forever. Regardless, armed with the knowledge and capability to produce FTL Drive engines en masse, the human race was finally able to break out of its cage known as the solar system and stepped into the frontier of intergalactic space travel.

As it was likely that the humans who would venture forth to pioneer the human push into the unknown depths of the universe would likely break off on their own and require a government to control them, away from the grasp and rule of the United Nations, the UN back home on Earth officially mandated the establishment of the Universal Human Federation, or simply the Federation, in Earth year 2360 to be in control of all human colonies that would be created as a result of the human venture into deep space. By the end of the 24th century, because the Federation's power was naturally directly proportional to the number of colonies that had been created and inhabited because of the astonishing rate at which the humans explored the universe, the Federation had grown so large and powerful that it no longer needed to heed the United Nations' directions and thus broke off as its own independent entity and governing body in Earth year 2401. The United Nations promptly cut all ties with the Federation, essentially excommunicating all humans outside the boundaries of the humans' home solar system. Whether or not political bodies have the power to excommunicate people is another contention of debate entirely.

Thus, for a peaceful century, the Federation ruled over all human colonies and human-inhabited space sectors in the universe beyond the home solar system's borders. The Federation humans went on to encounter six more alien species, other than their ally Engis: the warlike and aggressive Mantis, the fierce and territorial Rockmen, the wise and sometimes chaotically good Zoltan, the sly and manipulative Slugs, and the oxygen-draining and metal-hungry Lanius. They fought with some, formed alliances with others, and avoided some more.

But on Earth date April 24th, 2507, the Rebellion broke out. Consisted of mainly military, para-military, and ex-military forces of the Federation, the Rebels were led by a small group of Federation dissenters who disagreed heavily and heatedly with Federation leaders on Federation policy, especially legislative policy of treating all species living under the influence of the Federation as equals. Put simply, those dissenting leaders of the Rebellion were human supremacists, as the age-old human concept of racism had evolved with the changing times to become a form of intergalactic discrimination of other species as well. They objected venomously to the appointment of alien species to important Federation posts, the allowance of members of alien species to become high-ranking military officers and generals and admirals, and the prevalence of alien species intermingling with humans and vice versa, but because the first century of the Federation's existence had brought too much prosperity to the humans of the Federation for these dissenters to have their voices heard adequately, they bided their time, and after a century of waiting, their time came on that day when a huge scandal within the top echelons of the Federation was discovered. The scandal involved several of the top-name Zoltan, Engi, and Slug, and Mantis officials of the Federation government, who were allegedly attempting to buy out several of the civilian sectors at Galaxy 0629, one of the first galaxies discovered by the Federation and had long been a fond homeworld for the humans of the Federation. This was the opportunity the dissenters needed to muckrake enough hatred for the alien species from enough of the human population to finally build up a large enough force to secede and threaten to destroy the Federation from the inside out.

From 2507 to 2511, the intergalactic civil war between the Rebellion and the Federation raged. Because the Rebellion's leaders were able to take with them a large majority of the Federation's military officers, engineers, and researchers, they were able to quickly produce a slightly superior force to the Federation's remaining military, and the first year of the war proved that the Rebellion refused to be quelled easily. If anything, 2507 proved that the Federation could not afford to treat this like some planetary rebellion in a distant sector - this Rebellion would be sure to destroy what their predecessors had worked to construct. Fueled by this fear, the forces of the Federation fought back desperately, holding on against the onslaught of the Rebellion, but by the time the war neared the end, it was estimated that up to 92% of the Federation's starting military was either destroyed, docked for repairs, or incapacitated. The Federation was down to only three major fleets, and the Rebellion would surely find them, and once they did, the war would be over, for by that point, the Federation would have no more effective military.

Then, in the first month of 2511, a single Federation Kestrel cruiser intercepted a data package from a Rebel squadron in Civilian Sector 1922, in the outskirts of the Trikassi Galaxy. That data package contained crucial information about the Rebellion, that the core of the Rebellion's military strength was vested into a single ship simply known as the Flagship. If there was ever a weakness to the far superior forces of the Rebellion, it was the Flagship - it was the communications headquarters of the entire Rebellion, and it housed the leaders of the Rebellion themselves. While it was the single strongest warship ever constructed in galactic history, if it were to be destroyed, the Rebellion would never fully recover because of how much that Flagship was a crutch to them and their military power and coordination. The captain of that single Kestrel cruiser, the Kestrel itself at the time a retired cruiser type that had to be recalled back into active service to replace lost Federation fleets, made it his mission to travel back to Federation Sector 500, where the final fleets of the Federation were in hiding from the Rebel fleets. Thus was created the legend of the humble and famous Kestrel cruiser that had no name and its valiant crew, who allegedly battled their way through eight straight sectors by itself, an unheard of feat of luck, perseverance, and courage, and single-handedly defeated and destroyed the Rebel flagship. For maximum irony, it was confirmed that the crew of the Kestrel were made up of a human captain and pilot, a Mantis guard, an Engi doorman, a Rockman engine operator, a Zoltan shield operator, a Slug sensor operator, a Lanius weapons operator, and even a Crystal refugee of the mysterious and enigmatic Crystal species, the mother species to the Rockmen.

The day that the Rebel Flagship was destroyed, Earth date November 21st, 2511, known as the Battle of David and Goliath (nicknamed the Battle of D&amp;G for brevity's sake) marked the mass exodus of the Rebel forces. Convinced by the Federation's surprising but massive underdog victory at the defeat of the Flagship, the Engis and Zoltans renewed their historic alliances with the Federation and poured in reinforcements and funding to help the Federation finish the fight, and empowered beyond their imaginations, the fleets of the Federation hunted down the remainder of the Rebel forces to the furthest corners of the Federation. By 2513, the only options for whatever Rebels were still around were to venture beyond Federation territory into the even deeper depths of the universe, where other alien species might prey upon them and destroy them, or capitulate to the Federation forces and submit themselves to the jurisdiction of the Federation. Most chose the latter.

And such was the situation of Major Wolf Skot'Alaker, a human pilot and captain of a Hassiah-Class Rebel Heavy Cruiser during the Rebellion. At the time of his capture, he was one of the few surviving members of the original roster of Federation military officers who seceded from the Federation to join the Rebel cause - a status he still maintains. He was brought to Thlarian Correctional Station in high orbit over Oppenmain, a mid-size planet in Civilian Sector 5002, a fringe sector, and there, along with fellow Rebel survivors, he was imprisoned for the past two years. He and other Rebel prisoners brought from all over Federation space from where they were captured were kept there, not knowing what would become of them or what the Federation leaders would end up deciding to do with them.

So instead of waiting around with the possibility of the death penalty being chosen for them, the Rebel prisoners decided to choose their own fate. They spent those two years carefully planning their escape, and on Earth date May 2nd, 2515, their operation has been finally put into motion. Their mission was to escape, first and foremost. What comes after that, no one really knows.

* * *

The three hijacked Federation cruisers warp to the FTL beacon, and to their crews' relief, they find it unoccupied as they'd hoped. They use this breathing room to direct power to the weapon systems that are available and wait for their FTL drives to charge once again.

_"Everyone on board, come to the central control room so we can talk things over, chop chop," _the pilot of Wolf's cruiser calls over the intercom, so Wolf gets up from his seat, leaving his AE-4 directed energy assault rifle standing up against the wall next to his chair in front of the engine console to head for the central control room. It's the universal nickname for the ship's lounge that ship crews frequently used for crew meetings, for relaxing, and for sleeping in emergency cases. He meets with the twenty or so other former convicts who have participated in their daring escape plan to break out of the prison station, not including the pilot, who joins them last.

"'Eyyy, a'ight, settle down, everyone," the pilot, Wolf's prisonmate who had a cell right across from him in the prison wards by the name of Maverick Polonsson, whom everyone called "Mack" for short, for about a year, calls out, getting the men's attention. "First things first, let's see who didn't make it..."

"Kalldoris 'n Jameson didn't make it," one of the taller prisoners gruffly states.

"Neither did Abel."

"We had ta leave Zalaaqy behind. He told us to leave him, wasn't gonna make it either way."

The other prisoners take turns listing off the names of their comrades they knew didn't make it with them.

"So about twenty of us, huh..." Mack sighs grimly. "Well, you know the drill...moment 'a silence for our brothers-in-arms..."

All the escaped prisoners snap their backs upright, slap their left arms tautly next to their sides, make fists with their right hands, fold their arms, and beat their chests twice in quick succession before raising their arms in the age-old traditional human salute of their right hands in front of their foreheads. This is - or was - the standard salute of the Rebellion, used for anything from saluting a superior officer to honoring a fallen soldier. They hold the salute for a minute before Mack the pilot dismisses the salute.

"A'ight, enough mournin', all of us knew that not everyone was gonna make it out to begin with. Now that we're here though, we can't ever forget that they were the ones who died so that we could get out, understand?"

The rest of the men yell back_, "URAAAAAAAAAAA!"_

"Good, good. Now, we gotta figure out where the hell we're goin'. We'll take this time while we're hangin' out at this empty beacon to know what everyone's plans are." Mack waves at Wolf at the back of the group. "Wolf! Wolf, c'mere for a sec!"

A bit miffed by the fact that Mack isn't addressing him properly, Wolf heads over to Mack.

"That's _Major_ to you, Lieutenant."

"Not anymore. You do realize that both our ranks mean jack shit now? There's no more Rebellion to give our ranks meaning anymore. We're just another band of ragtag prisoners, nothin' more, nothin' less. The faster you get that, the better."

Wolf rolls his eyes but doesn't argue. From their late night conversations when the guards were off patrol duty, Wolf learned that Mack had been a First Lieutenant serving aboard a Zal-Class Light Cruiser as a pilot in the venerable Second Interception Fleet, one of the Rebellion's most feared and highly skilled combat task forces. So technically, if the Rebellion was still alive somewhere in Federation space, Mack would be Wolf's subordinate, but Wolf knows that Mack's words are true. If there is no Rebellion to give meaning to their ranks, it's not like the Federation will reinstate a the pre-war rank of a former Rebellion officer, who now happens to be an escaped convict.

"So? What do you want?"

"You said you were the weapons operator aboard your vessel during the Rebellion, right? No one's got quite anywhere near as much weapons training as you do; go to the storage and the weapons bay and see what this ship's armed with. I didn't have time to check, too busy gettin' us outta the prison.

"Right..."

Wolf trudges away, leaving the men to sort out their plans. As for himself, Wolf doesn't have any particular plans in mind. His own family members, his parents, two younger brothers, and uncles were fierce Federation loyalists, and the moment they learned of his defection, they disowned him, so it's not like he could go back to his family. They probably wouldn't even recognize his existence by now, and they definitely didn't care whether he was still alive or dead. Literally the only reason why he ever bothered to break out in the first place was because he didn't feel like being locked away forever in a backwater prison in the middle of nowhere. He himself was a quiet man with little words most of the time, but just because you don't like to talk much doesn't mean you aren't loud in other ways.

Long story short, Wolf knows he's probably going to become a wanderer, or perhaps even a pirate. Better than living the rest of his life as a wanted convict, if anything.

The doors to the weapons bay opens, granting him access. Someone had already booted up the weapons console, so he sits down and initializes the weapons menu, from which he can access information about the weapons loaded and installed on board. All combat-worthy ships and vessels in existence, so long as they are destroyers and cruisers, have a standard four-space modular weapon system, on which any piece of weaponry can be installed and freely switched around the four weapon hardpoints on the ships at will. Some ships have only three, most notably quite a few of the Mantis cruisers, and the secret Federation Stealth Cruiser that was developed for the Federation courtesy of the Engis. Wolf had even heard rumors about some hyper-specialized Engi cruisers that had only two in order to maximize their drone output, since the traditional Engi war theory revolves around a keen focus on drone weaponry.

No weapons show up as registered and installed. Wolf rolls his eyes. Whoever was servicing this Federation Cruiser clearly didn't install the weapons. Just great.

But since this _is _a Federation Cruiser, there must be an auxiliary weapons system on board somewhere. All Federation Cruisers have either an Artillery Laser or Artillery Flak Cannon auxiliary weapon system installed on board, the latter being much rarer because of the higher cost and complexity of the auxiliary Flak Cannon design, but Wolf has had experience combating both types of the Federation Cruiser during the Rebellion. The ones with the auxiliary Flak were scary to fight - any ship with a Flak Mk. II gun was scary to fight, considering that those things murdered shields as easily as popping bubble wrap. Hopefully this particular cruiser they've hijacked has the auxiliary Flak on board.

Since nothing is installed yet, Wolf gets up from the weapons console and heads to the storage of the ship to see if there are any weapons compartments containing usable weapons. He doesn't have any big hopes, but it's still something to check just in case, because _any _weapon is better than _no _weapon. Making his way to the storage, Wolf turns on the lights to the storage and takes a look around. To his relief, he spots two shiny white, rectangular crates that he recognizes as weapons crates. He inspects their labels.

One of them he recognizes as the good old Burst Laser Mk. II. A great weapon - for just two weapon power, the Burst Laser Mk. II gave you three shots, and in the hands of a capable weapons operator like Wolf, it could fire just under every ten seconds. Wolf remembers his service aboard his own vessel, the _Musketeer_, which was armed with two Burst Laser Mk. II's. Those days were fun. At least now, he's got a familiar friend that's found a way to meet up with him again.

But the other weapon system is a weapon Wolf's never seen before. Something called an "Artillery Laser Mk. I". Whatever it is, it sure sounds powerful. Wolf opens up the metal crate to see if he can find a manifest or any papers or electronic data storages that hold information about the weapon. Finding none, Wolf knows that the only way to find out about this new weapon is to install it into the weapon system and have the console identify its description for him.

Exiting the storage, Wolf follows the directions on the corridor walls of the ship to navigate his way to the Auxiliary Weapons Bay, a special system room that, to his knowledge, exclusive to the Federation Cruisers because of their design to include an auxiliary weapon system independent from the Weapons Bay. Upon finding it and entering, Wolf boots up the small console. The consoles of Federation cruisers' auxiliary weapon systems aren't constructed to be like the consoles of standard weapon bays, which could be operated by crewmen to optimize weapon lock-ons and thus decrease weapon cooldown times, but instead they are only there to keep the auxiliary weapons system online and constantly recharging.

The auxiliary weapons system, again, is something Wolf doesn't recognize. Instead of the usual Artillery Laser or Artillery Flak Cannon, instead, this ship is armed with something called the Artillery Hull Missile System. According to the description provided by the console, its operation and cooldown times are like the normal auxiliary weapons systems, but instead of firing flak or a laser beam, it fires a barrage of four hull missiles randomly at various ship rooms, dealing tremendously more damage if the missiles hit systemless rooms, or ship hull. Apparently it has its own ammunition replicating system built into the system.

Wolf returns to the central control room to report his findings, but the men have since dispersed, and only a few of them are still lounging around there.

"Lookin' for Mack? He went back to pilotin'," one of the prisoners calls, hearing Wolf enter through the automatic doors. Wolf immediately turns on his heel and exits, redirecting his path straight for piloting. As told, he finds Maverick sitting at the pilot's console, mapping out directions on the star map.

"No weapons currently installed on the weapon system, but I did find two weapons in storage. In addition, the auxiliary weapons system for this cruiser looks like it's functional."

"Nice," Mack replies, not turning to look at Wolf. "Which weapons? And what's the aux weapon system?"

"A Burst Laser Mk. II, and something called an Artillery Laser Mk. I."

"Never heard 'a the latter, sounds like it'll be pretty cool."

"The Auxiliary Weapons system is called the Artillery Hull Missile System."

"Hm, don't recognize that either. Has the Federation been workin' on upgrades to their ships 'n weapons?"

"Maybe. We've been in prison for two years without contact with the rest of Federation space."

Wolf watches Mack finish mapping out their path through the star map.

"What's the plan?" Wolf asks.

"Everyone's got homes in this sector," Mack explains. "We're gonna drop 'em off at a black market hub beacon that we've heard about from the guards at the prison, and the boys can find their way back home. Me, on the other hand, I've got other plans. I didn't ask you about yours - what're you up to?"

Wolf shrugs.

"Not sure. I've got nowhere to go, so...I don't know what I want to do, or what I _should _do."

"Good, then I'll ask you to follow me. I'll need some help, since I don't think I can pilot this ship alone without anyone else manning the systems."

"Why, what're you planning to do?"

Mack grins.

"Go back to Earth. I'm gonna give the Federation a Rebellion they can't do anything against."


	2. Lorraine Black

The three escaped and hijacked Federation ships take their time at the empty beacon installing whatever weapons have been sitting in their storage bays, and using the scrap also found in the storage bay, Wolf and his crew adds the additional weapon system power and upgrades the Federation Cruiser's energy reactor necessary to have both the Burst Laser Mk. II and the Artillery Laser Mk. I active simultaneously.

Mack, the pilot, enters the weapons bay and finds Wolf typing away at the weapons console.

"All the weapons up 'n runnin'?" Mack asks the major.

"Roger that, all weapons online and..." Wolf taps a key on the hologram keyboard, "active. Power routed successfully to both weapons."

"Good. Did you find out what that...uh, the Laser Artillery gun thing...what's the name again..."

"The Artillery Laser Mk. I."

"Right, that one, what does that do, did you find out?"

Wolf taps the console screen and flicks a panel off the screen, and it floats in the air outside the screen and fills with scrolling text for Mack to read.

"For three weapon power, it has a default thirteen second charge time and fires a single laser cannon that pierces one level of shields with 30% chance to breach and cause fires...fires a 50cm pulse," Mack mutters, reading off the description. "Sounds cool, but we'll just have to hope we don't run into anyone with a Defense Drone Mk. II, otherwise this gun's practically useless. And three weapon power? That's expensive in terms of energy cost..."

"It depleted almost all the scrap we found in the storage getting it online in tandem with the Burst Laser," Wolf mentions. "We best hope that it pays off using it."

"I know, right. That's like, over a hundred something scrap that we could've used for other crap. If we find out that this thing isn't cuttin' it, we'll sell it at the nearest shop we can find or scrap it somewhere at a black market dock or something..."

Mack flicks the panel back towards the console, and the panel reinserts itself into the confines of the console's screen again.

"And what about that nifty auxiliary weapon system back there? We have enough to power that, too?"

"Just one energy level was all we could afford."

Mack nods. "That's fine, then. Better havin' it charged than not charging at all."

Wolf turns around in his seat in front of the console to face Mack directly.

"So what are we doing, Mack? Do we have a plan yet? Because if so, I'd like to hear it. I'd rather know what I'm going to be getting myself into here."

"Well, for now, like I mentioned before, we gotta get these guys with us on board back to their homes. Lots'a 'em got family to go back to that they haven't gotten in touch with for the past two years since we been locked up. Even crackhead Polaris's got a wife 'n kids, y'know?"

"But how are we supposed to do that? I doubt any of the men with us on board have their homes in this sector. This's a fringe sector, after all."

"Damn, Major, I thought you had that rank for a reason. Maybe prison time's gotten to your head a bit," Mack shakes his head with a grin on his face. "You forget that fringe sectors are the best places to find black market beacons. Lots'a shady folks, of course, but if you talk to the right people, they'll get our boys where they need to go."

"But we hardly have any scrap remaining. There's no way we're going to pay those middlemen."

"That's fine; we'll just ask 'em if they need us to do anything for 'em. If it's a fire mission, then perfect, we've got more than enough to deal with that."

Wolf sighs. "This vessel is not upgraded enough. We only have one layer of shields and three engine power - only two, actually, since we had to reroute power from engines to charge the aux weapons. And we don't know how well this Artillery Laser weapon will perform, since we're not familiar with it. At least, I'm not, and I'm the weapons operator here. So to say that we'll handle any fire mission request they might have is iffy, to say the least."

"Then we'll just tell them whether we think we can handle it or not. It's not supposed to be complicated; trust me, I've been to black market hubs before. I know how ta deal with those folks. Just let me handle the heavy talkin' and the pilotin', and all you gotta do is shoot down anyone that gets in our way. Sound good?"

Wolf just shrugs and turns back to the console screen in his seat. Mack just chuckles quietly.

"I don't reckon that you're one 'a those brass who doesn't really like dealin' with black market beacons, huh? Bad memories, maybe?"

"Never liked them, Lieutenant. Don't need me to tell you that to glean that from me."

"Clearly. And still callin' me Lieutenant, I see."

"Why, yes. Is there a particular problem with me addressing you as Lieutenant? I never ordered you to address me as Major, have I?"

Mack just laughs. "I see, I see. Well, nice to know we've all started ta settle in. I'll start checking out the star map and see where the closest likely black market beacon might be..."

But as Mack starts heading out, his prisoners' boots clomping against the cold black flooring, Wolf calls out to him.

"And what of your plan to return to Earth? You never elaborated on that, Lieutenant. What kind of...'Rebellion' are you trying to stir up this time?"

The First Lieutenant, whose bald head nearly scrapes the top of the sliding door frame, slowly turns to the bearded Major.

"It's exactly what it sounds like, Wolf," Mack says quietly with a grin that's full of quiet enthusiasm and anticipation. "I'm going to trek across the galaxy and go back to Earth, our supposed homeworld. And when I get there, I'll try to see if I can convince the government there to turn against the Federation."

Wolf narrows his eyes at Mack. "But why? The United Nations has cut ties with the Federation long ago, far past our own time. They have no reason to listen to a member of some former Rebellion with a rank that means nothing. Therefore, they have no reason to open hostilities against a Federation they have not even communicated with for over a century. What makes you think you'll be successful in this venture?"

Shaking his head, Mack leans his back against the closed doors of the weapons bay.

"You don't get it, do you?" Mack asks quietly. "As an older veteran 'a the Rebellion and a conservative-minded Major, you really don't see the meaning behind what I'm planning, do you?"

"Then by all means, please enlighten me," Wolf retorts matter-of-factly, "if you believe that I am as closed-minded as you think."

"See here - there _is _no point," Mack explains with a sly smile. "The chances that I'll actually pull it off are so slim that success is negligible entirely. Most likely I'm gonna end up dyin' along the way before I can even reach the place, and on top of that, none of us even know where Earth is. So havin' said that, it's not a matter of _why, _it's a matter of why _not._"

Wolf rolls his eyes - he's seen this kind of behavior before aboard his own vessel, the _Musketeer._

"Mack, while it's nice that you're an ambitious young man whose life was greatly altered because of the course that the Rebellion has taken, allow me to tell you that I've seen many an ambitious soldier like you say similar things. All of them have met tragic and/or brutal ends. And I fear that you will be no different."

"So? What does it matter? I don't have family I can go back to. They were Federation loyalists. They disowned me as soon as they heard that I'd joined the Rebellion. Don't get me wrong, I'm not as fucked up as most of the other people who joined the Rebellion at the time. I just wanted to see what it was like fighting in a galactic war, and it turned out to be just what I was lookin' for. But that's neither here nor there - right now, I have nothin' else that I can really do. So why not just set an absurdly high bar of achievement and see how far I can go? That's the perfect kinda life for me."

"What you _ought _to be doing is rebuilding your life somewhere instead of spouting nonsense like that," Wolf chortles.

"Nah, I'm good, man. That sorta shit, that lifestyle sounds more like what _you _should be doin'."

Wolf shakes his head. "Too late for me, Lieutenant. Thirty-five years old and an escaped Federation convict. It's not as though I can simply 'rebuild' what I lost with the Rebellion. You, however, still can."

"Too late for me, too, 'cause I've already made up my mind," Mack pushes himself slightly off the doors. "I'm gonna pull off the greatest intergalactic trek in history or go out in a blaze 'a glory tryin'. If that Kestrel could end the Rebellion by itself, then I can reach Earth. It's that simple."

"Where are you going to find all that luck, then?" Wolf asks, watching sliding doors open to let Mack through, but Mack shakes his head without turning back to Wolf.

"You're not givin' 'em enough credit, Wolf," Mack replies coolly, "they didn't beat us with luck. And I don't plan on relying on dumb luck to get me anywhere, either." Mack stops just as he's in the middle of the doorframe. "Oh, and if I'm not mistaken, it's not like _you _have anythin' better to do or anywhere to go, right?"

Mack leaves the weapons bay, and the light humming of the console is all that Wolf hears.

* * *

About half an hour later, the three hijacked Federation vessels warp to a busy trade beacon that Mack alleges may be a black market hub. And suer enough, as soon as they warp into view, a ship that is sitting guard at the beacon hails them. Wolf's weapons console automatically pins up a camera feed on the guard ship, which Wolf recognizes as an old pre-Rebellion Federation Kestrel Cruiser, a horribly outdated model by this point in time. His weapons operating experience floods back to him like muscle memory, and his eyes subconsciously scan the warship, looking right at the warship for telltale signs of its active weapons...a sign of his early days as the _Musketeer_'s weapons operator, having worked during a time when working sensors were considered a luxury aboard that ship. So unlike all other weapons operators, Wolf has trained himself to identify enemy ship weapons simply by plain sight rather than relying on his console to identify them for him.

The unknown vessel's hail also pops up in front of Wolf's console as well, as hails like this are broadcast on every major systems' and subsystems' consoles, with the exception of the auxiliary weapons bay. The screen depicts a pipe-smoking, eyepatched gentleman in old pre-Rebellion Federation military coat.

_"Well, I was 'bout ta ask what three Federation Cruisers were doin' in a 'peaceful' trading hub like this," _the captain of the guard vessel opens communications, _"but now that I see what'cher all wearin', I suppose I shouldn't ask. You ain't actually Federation, now, are ya?"_

_"Nope,"_ Mack's voice is also broadcast to the crew, _"but we ain't tellin' you exactly who we are either until we get what we need. This the Lorraine Black Hub?"_

_"Finest black market hub you'll find in this sector," _the captain blows a smoke ring on-screen. _"Power down yer weapons, 'n I'll give ya dockin' access."_

Wolf types quickly at the console and sends power back to the ship's reactor storage, and the weapons operators of the two other hijacked Federation cruisers also do likewise.

_"Awrighty, that'll do," _the captain of the guard ship nods, _"givin' y'all dockin' permit codes. Enjoy yer time, folks. And try out the Pong'arn Cocktail at the Loony Tavern, I hear it's becomin' a real favorite 'mongst our regulars."_

The three captured Federation cruisers sail forward past the guard Kestrel ship towards the large black market station. Armed with docking permit codes, they are allowed into the disembarking bays, where the ships are passively scanned for hazardous material or cargo on board before finally landing in their assigned lots.

Wolf depowers the weapons console and heads over to the ship's canteen, the central gathering room where the escaped prisoners have all gathered once before. There, as the rest of the prisoners disembark to stretch out their legs and head up to the upper levels of the black market hub station, Mack confronts the weapons operator.

"Wolf, I'll need ya ta come with me," Mack says.

"And why should I?"

"You know why." Mack takes a step forward, closer to Wolf. "I've seen you, how you act 'n talk. I ain't no oblivious fucker. You know how ta talk. You know how to figure out things. You're a smart motherfucker, don't try 'n hide it."

Wolf narrows his eyes at Mack. Mack is about an inch or so taller than he, but Wolf shows no less intensity in his blue eyes.

"And what of it, Lieutenant?"

Mack rolls his eyes at the fact that Wolf insists on addressing him by his obsolete rank.

"I need your help goin' around and talkin' to these folks," Mack spits out, getting over that annoying fact. "I'm not a good talker, you know that. I talk better with my fists. But even I know fists aren't the best way to extract information from people."

Wolf smirks. "Then say that you need my help. As if I have a reason not to turn down your request."

Mack chortles back. "Why, because you feel bad for me or what?"

"More that it is not as though I have anything better to do. But I suppose feeling sympathy for you counts too."

"Fuck off..."

Wolf and Mack are the last ones off their Federation Cruiser and join the other visitors to the black market station and board the central teleporter that phases them up to the main floor of the station, the atrium. Stepping off their portals, Mack and Wolf look around, digesting the grungy, metallic world that is the atmosphere and environment of a typical black market hub.

"Hell, it's about time, right?" Mack laughs, grinning at the familiar and welcome sights of the station - preferable to the dead, perpetually gray walls of the prison station he and Wolf have been cooped up in for the last two years.

The black market hub station, Lorraine Black, is a circular station, an Everest-Class space station with over one hundred Anti-Ship Battery ports and capable of generating its own planetary orbit and anchoring itself to a larger celestial body if needed. In perspective, the Lorraine Black Station's height is nearly the diameter of the Earth's moon itself. This particular station has been constructed with a circular architectural motif, so the central teleporter is at the very heart of the station with everything built around it in a dome-like structure. Numerous taverns, bars, brothels, and anything else that a black market hub would have is here, with hundreds upon hundreds of brightly colored signs inviting potential customers in. Shop assistants and employees are strolling about, holding up hologram signs and other sorts of advertisements soliciting business for their respective employment centers.

"Do you have an idea where to go?" Wolf asks Mack in his usual calm, almost deadpan tone of voice.

"Hmm..." Mack rests his knuckle against his lower lip in thought, "it's been a while since I've come to a black market hub like this. I used to know...if I can only remember..."

Wolf simply sighs.

"Follow me," he says with a twist of the corner of his lip. "I must confess that I am not one to stand about aimlessly in thought, especially when I have the solution at hand."

Mack turns around to see Wolf heading back to the central teleporter lobby, heading towards one of the empty portals.

"And why do I get the feelin' that you sound like you're really disappointed in me?" Mack hollers after him.

"Perhaps because I am." Wolf steps onto the teleporter and presses the button for the second level of the Lorraine Black Hub. Mack follows suit in the portal next to Wolf's.

"Yeah, yeah, _sorry _that I haven't been to a station like this in over six years."

"Six years, you say? I apologize. I suppose my _decade_ of absence from a place like this is no matter, then?" Wolf scoffs just before teleporting. Mack rolls his eyes again, beginning to debate with himself whether recruiting the help of a guy like this is really going to be worth the effort.

"Fuckin' geezer...better if you get off that high horse 'a yours..." Mack mutters under his own breath, shaking his head as the portal whisks him away.

Wolf arrives first on the second level of the hub. During the few moments that he is alone, Wolf takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with the metallic, almost suffocating air filled with terrazine and tobacco smoke and bits of harmless neon gas leaking from the signs of all the shops and taverns around. Disgusting and reeking of social outcasts, societal lowlives, and the most dishonest and rambunctious scum of the galaxy, black market hub stations never had any particular appeal to Wolf. As a member of the more genteel side of galactic society himself - a former one, anyway - even if he was ex-Rebel, Wolf still prided himself on the fact that he always carried himself with a quiet sort of dignity, confidence, and self-esteem no matter what the occasion.

And yet, despite such elitist thoughts, Wolf manages to bring himself at least appreciate this kind of atmosphere. After all, two years in a maximum security prison station will make just about anyone rethink what they truly ought to be complaining about in life.

Wolf is pulled back into reality out of the inner thoughts of his human mind by the sensation of Mack's hand patting down on his right shoulder.

"Yo, you okay?" Mack asks. "You were just kinda...frozen there, you reminiscing on somethin'?"

Wolf pinches the bridge of his nose, a bit tired from their prison break. He's been through worse. "I hesitate to call it 'reminiscing', but call it what you will."

"What's that supposed to mean..."

Wolf and Mack begin their quest to find the information they need, spending upwards of an hour walking around and trying to speak to the right people. Normally there would be a few people walking about seeking for potential candidates to fulfill quests or favors for them at the promise of rewards, but neither Mack nor Wolf get any luck finding such individuals.

"Hey, Wolf, let's chill for a bit here," Mack suggests as the two of them begin to pass by a tavern, the Loony Tavern. "Hey, isn't this the place that the ol' guard captain told us about when we were docking? May as well head in here."

Wolf raises an eyebrow at his companion. "We don't have a lot of scrap, I'm afraid, and I did not bother bringing any with me."

Wolf simply smirks, fishing out a few scrap cards from his prisoner's uniform pocket.

"In times like these, I'm always prepared," Mack says reassuringly. Wolf recognizes those scrap cards as the salaries of the prison guards back at the Thlarian Correction Station - and each scrap card was worth some 100 scrap.

"Where did you get your hands on those?" Wolf demands to know.

"Hey, I told you, I'm good at talkin' with my hands," Mack says proudly. "Pickpocketed the guards during our two years back in the slammer. Saved up a pretty penny, see?"

"Impressive. Very well." Mack nods in approval. Even with rather elitist inclinations and thoughts, Wolf is not that foolish to ignore the benefits of having a comrade with money to spare.

They enter the tavern, and as soon as they walk through the sliding doors, a huge, lumbering, seven-foot-tall figure made of solid space rock confronts them.

"Salutations, patrons. Would you like to place your orders at the present?"

Wolf and Mack arch their necks up. A menacing-looking Rockman, dressed almost comically in a waiter's suit, greets them with a relatively tiny menu listing the availability of drinks and other consumables. His rumbling voice, like an avalanche of falling rock, resonates through the two humans in front of him, and Wolf and Mack feel as though the Rockman's voice is bouncing around like a pinball in their cells.

"Er...no, not yet, we're just lookin' to be seated first," Mack says back, his voice betraying a small amount of nervousness.

"Very well." The Rockman lifts a slow, massive right hand to point the way towards the bar. "At your convenience."

Very unaccustomed to the docile and benign behavior of this particular Rockman, Wolf and Mack quickly walk to the bar, seating themselves there.

"Well..._that's _a first," Mack comments with wide-open eyes. "A Rockman wearing a suit working in a bar acting friendly. Hoo boy, I think I've seen it all..." He puts his face into his hand with his elbow on the counter.

"Indeed...perhaps that Rockman is a slave," Wolf suggests. "You never quite know what the slaves are ordered to do in black market hubs, after all."

"Yeah...got a point there. And wasn't that suit, like, trendy up until the 2100's? Why's he still wearing that shit?" Mack shakes his head, glancing at the Rockman waiter lumbering over to a table to take orders from a few other patrons. "Anyway...let's get a few drinks first. You hungry?"

"A meal is quite welcome," Wolf nods. "Sustenance is important."

"You don't say..."

Then, another copy of the menu that the Rockman is holding is suddenly slipped onto the counter in between the two human ex-prisoners. Wolf and Mack look up, and they behold a four and a half foot alien being staring back at the two of them while sitting on top of a vehicular contraption that almost resembles a futuristic Segway. It has a gray body with a bit of a pinkish tint that is most clearly seen in the occasional pulsing that ripples across its body slowly, revealing the hexagonal cell patterns of its bodily circuits. It has long wing-like appendages for arms and retractable fingers and rather stubby legs and no feet. Its ears are long, sharp, almost bunny-like, and its eyes are also glowing pink, with an illuminated indentation going from the base of its ears to its eyes and to the other side of its head. All things considered, it looks like some sort of cybernetic penguin.

"Request preference of liquor?" the Engi asks in a metallic voice. Mack has a bit of difficulty understanding the Engi's robotic, computerized manner of speaking, but Wolf, accustomed to such Engi-oriented speech, points at several items on the laminated menu.

"Fish and chips for me. What about you, Mack?"

"Plate of ham grillers, I guess."

The Engi's eyes flash green in confirmation, nodding its mouthless head.

"Restating original inquiry. Preference of drink?"

Wolf glances down at the menu again. "Just water or purified Halcyon tea, if you have it."

"Not a drinking man, are you, Wolf?" Mack chuckles.

"No, I'm afraid. I confess to have bad cases of insubordination due to a few of my men aboard my heavy cruiser constantly getting into trouble drinking on the job."

"That's too bad, I guess. I'll take the house's recommendation. The Pang'arn Cocktail."

The Engi's eyes flash green in confirmation again.

"Substance Advisory required. Surgeon General of the Federation states - "

"Screw the Surgeon General, do we look underage?" Mack picks up the menu and hands it back to the Engi bartender. "Hurry up 'n get our shit already."

The Engi takes the menu, which sticks to its hands like a magnet, and scurries away on its futuristic Segway.

"Holy hell, this must be an old-fashioned bar," Mack comments, looking around the tavern. "This's basically as old-school as it gets. How many taverns you been to that're still set up like this..."

"None, unfortunately - taverns, bars, and places of the like do not fit my fancy," Wolf says with complete neglect for what Mack's trying to say.

"Yes, yes, thanks, old man, I wasn't lookin' for a depressing answer like that. Makes you sound like you didn't have a life as a kid."

Wolf completely ignores that last comment from Mack.

"Getting back onto the more crucial issues at hand," Wolf changes the topic, "one would think that the sight of us clearly wearing prisoner uniforms and walking about in a black market station would gather attention. Am I not correct in the assumption that there are bounty hunters who specifically target suspicious-looking individuals such as we to apprehend and return back to the Federation? After all, prison breaks like ours have been quite common. Every time one occurs, it's all over the prison security news. All of us prisoners hear about it from the guards eventually."

Mack just chuckles again, shaking his head.

"Well, I s'pose that just proves that you never came to these places often," Mack grins, tapping his fingers on the counter while eagerly waiting for his drink. The two men can see the Engi that waited on them preparing their drinks in the corner of the bar, using its retractable fingers to treat one of the drinks being served with some electrical sparks. "You're not wrong. Some black market hubs really are just melees or free-for-alls, where you really gotta be on your guard if you wanna stay there or visit there. But then there're stations like this, like Lorraine Black, where people don't want any trouble, they're just here to look to see if they can make some business happen. It's against the laws here to be armed at all. You didn't read that while we were docking?"

"As though I believed that something like a black market hub station would be decent enough to have its own set of laws. How surprising."

Mack plants his face into his palm. "Hey, y'know, not _all _black market hubs are shitty cesspools 'a scumbags 'n bounty hunters, let's just make that clear right now."

"No need," Wolf dismisses Mack's words with a quick flick of the wrist, "I do not plan to return to one anyway."

The Engi returns on its Segway thing and gingerly places two tall glasses containing the men's beverages, and Mack tosses one of the hundred scrap cards onto the counter for the Engi, who picks it up and scurries away again with it over to the register to bring them change.

"Anyway...where was I..." Mack drags his glass over to himself and picks it up, looking at the swirls of bright red, exotic blue, and radiation orange floating about as if on their own accord inside his glass. "Right. I did my homework before we broke outta prison, y'know. I stole some star maps from the guards who just left 'em lyin' around all careless 'n shit, so I managed to confirm multiple beacons that we could jump to right after we broke out with those cruisers. Lorraine Black seemed like the safest place to hide out for a little bit, partly 'cause no one here gives a damn about who the hell you are. This's the perfect place for prison convicts to run to, 'cause even if the Federation comes huntin' after us, this's private property, and the Federation themselves've got strict laws on recognizing private property, thanks to all the aliens runnin' around."

Wolf sips some of his purified Halycon tea - a fancy term for a liquid beverage almost identical to flavored mineral water and ubiquitous across the galaxy as a drink consumed by all species as a source of water.

"If this station is such a popular hide-out for ex-prisoners, why are we the only ones in prisoners' uniforms? I saw no other persons dressed like us, appearing as though they'd just gotten out of a prison break."

Mack sighs audibly. "That's 'cause they're smart 'nough not to keep hangin' around in their prison shit!" Mack asserts. "I mean, use your head, you're supposed to be a super smart weapons op, right? Even if this place is a safehaven for escaped convicts like us, it's not like we can just run around flauntin' it! Eventually, the Federation blokes'll find us and come here to arrest us if we don't ditch these clothes soon, 'cause someone's gonna rat us out for money to the Feds!"

"Then why did we not acquire a new set of clothes first?"

_"Because I was following your ass around lookin' for people ta talk to for potential quests!"_

"Is that so..."

Mack facepalms again and groans quietly. Wolf chuckles at his reaction, sipping more of his purified Halcyon tea and enjoying the crisp taste of his beverage. It sure as hell beats the two years of stale prison water and the occasional shit-quality beer that they'd been served as prisoners.

"You're trollin' me right now, right? Right?" Mack can't help but chuckle at his own misfortune. "You're such a shit, Wolf."

"Don't look now, Lieutenant, I'll be filing a report of misbehavior to the Ethics General."

Both Mack and Wolf laugh this time. Reporting one to the Ethics General was a popular inside joke among Rebellion officers, for the Ethics General of the Rebellion was a fellow who was in charge of the Rebellion's behavioral correction department but was also notorious for always getting himself into trouble with the Rebellion's leaders for disobedience and insubordination himself.

Mack drains about half of his drink in one chug.

"Wow, a house special that actually tastes good and doesn't feel like it's gonna poison my guts right outta my ass," Mack marvels in surprise. "You'd be shocked at how any taverns have specials that taste like utter space trash."

"You don't say..." Wolf remarks sarcastically, setting his glass back down on the counter, and the Engi waiter scoots over.

"Request refill?" the Engi asks, holding up the glass in offering. "Free."

"Yes, in that case," Wolf nods to the Engi, whose eyes flash in green confirmation yet again. "And how long til our food?"

"Seventeen seconds."

"Thank you kindly."

The Engi scurries away again. Mack gazes after the Engi.

"Y'know, for all the Rebellion's rhetoric about human dominance in the galaxy," Mack mutters, still staring at the Engi at the corner of the bar, "I always thought it'd be so fuckin' nice to have a squad of Engi on my ship."

"You, like so many others," Wolf sighs, also agreeing with his sentiment. "I, who am normally against the concept of slavery, would have even tolerated having a few Engi slaves aboard my ship. Alas, Rebellion protocol and procedure..."

After seventeen seconds, as the Engi waiter has pledged, it returns with two plates of steaming food and presents them before their respective patrons.

"Ham grillers, fish and chips," the Engi says. "Enjoy. Change now?"

Mack looks confused. "Change...? Change what...?"

"As in _pocket _change," Wolf coughs before chewing into his breaded fish.

"Oh! Oh, right, um, yeah, sure, gimme my change now, I s'pose," Mack, getting flustered at his own embarrassing mistake, hurriedly shoos the Engi away. "Goddamn it, you can tell we've been cooped up in that fucking slammer for way to long. Brain's dyin', man."

"I pity the fool who neglects to exercise his brain," Wolf scoffs quietly. "Exercising the body and muscle only takes you so far. And watching the tube does not count as mental activity."

The tube is analogous to the Earth-based television set.

"Fuckin' bookworm, I don't need ta be told that by you. Everyone thought you were weird as hell, with all those crossword puzzle books just stacked up in your cell," Mack defends himself. This comment, too, goes ignored.

"About these possible quests that will earn us some sort of temporary revenue..." Wolf asks in between bites of his fish and chips, "are you looking for a particular kind of quest? My negotiation skills can only take us so far if I have no idea what we are looking to do."

"Any quest'll do. Just nothin' like raiding Mantis war camps 'n shit like that," Mack says. "By the way, fish 'n chips? That's Earth cuisine, isn't it? Why're you eatin' somethin' so old-fashioned? Or rather, an even better question is, why the fuck does a tavern have it!?"

Wolf glares at Mack with fiercely condescending eyes. "Fish and chips was a favorite snack of my family's. Apparently you have no sense of 'tradition' or 'custom' in that musclebrain head of yours. How regrettable," Wolf murmurs, chewing some fries. "Though, that being said, the quality of the potatoes used to make these chips seems to be different from what I am used to. Perhaps potatoes imported from Vegetania...?"

"Anyway, back to the point! If you wanna look for a certain kinda quest, I'm thinkin' of short escort runs. I heard during the Rebellion that lots'a pirates 'n independent mercenaries earned a ton 'a money by doing lots of short, sweet escort jobs, protecting supply and transport ships that were traveling from sector to sector from Rebel ships like ours or from other pirates and mercenaries. Hell, I even had to detain a pirate ship that was doing one 'a those jobs. The captain said he was bein' paid a thousand scrap for an escort run that only spanned like eight or nine or so beacons. That's frickin' insane!"

"That was because with the outbreak of the Rebellion, the law and order of the Federation collapsed, thus allowing temporary anarchy to propagate and persist, especially in the sectors that were already deemed pirate-inhabited, and thus, galactic security in general was decreased by a significant margin," Wolf says sagely. "Because more and more pirates and the unrulier of our Rebel ships were destabilizing galactic peace and interrupting trade lines and destroying trade beacons, supplies in general became more expensive, and those who earned their livelihoods in the business of galactic commerce had to inflate the cost of transportation, thus allowing escorters to demand higher fees. Now that the Rebellion is over and the Federation is back in power, the chances of finding escort quests that will pay exorbitant prices like those paid during the Rebellion is low, especially now that it has been two years since the end of the Rebellion itself."

"Okay..." Mack scratches his head, "then what kinda quest you think we should be lookin' for?"

Suddenly, an open book is tossed in between the two men on the counter, and Mack and Wolf, surprised by this odd interruption, glance over at the book first before glancing back to see who is standing behind them. The book is depicting a star map, filled with neat scribbles and circles.

"_This _kinda quest."

Behind the two men stands a fairly dark-skinned young woman with glossy, deep ocean blue hair curled up into a single braid that drapes over her right shoulder. She wears some sort of digital-camouflaged military uniform that bears no rank or insignia and a tan officer's cap on her head.

"You two are ex-Rebel, ain't'cha?" she asks the two men with a confident, almost demonic grin on her face. "Just what I was lookin' for, and it sounds like you two're lookin' for a quest for some quick cash, eh? Perfect. Why don't you two join me? I'm lookin' for some help."


	3. Toll Booth

"So how'd you know we were ex-Rebel?" Mack demands to know, nibbling on a ham griller. "There're tons 'a guys the Federation locked up after the Rebellion, and not all 'a 'em were ex-Rebels like us."

The young woman, having taken her seat in between the two men, gives Mack a devious grin. "Your uniforms - you two're from the Thlarian Correctional Station over Oppenmain in Civvie Sector 5002. Your guys' prison break's all over the news; you're lucky you're in a black market hub like this where no one's really out bounty-huntin' escaped convicts, especially ex-Rebel ones. If you went to another black market hub station, might be a lil' different."

"Er, excuse me...I believe first we ought to have introductions before we agree to any collaborative effort on our end," Wolf interrupts.

"I mean, if that's what'cha want. I'm Danielle Chetankilash, and I'm an Ex-Federation pilot," the dark-skinned woman introduces herself, extending a hand out to Wolf first, which Wolf receives. "Now that that's outta the way, let's get down to - "

"Hey, whoa whoa, there, you don't even bother givin' me a handshake?" Mack scoffs in disbelief.

"Normally I don't bother giving handshakes to people I don't know, but this guy seems like a proper gentleman, which isn't someone you run into every day in the middle of deep space, especially not in a black market hub," Danielle rolls her eyes. "You just seem like all the rest."

"Hey, y'know, for your information, there's a lot better ways ta go around insultin' people..." Mack cracks his knuckles. Wolf clears his throat loudly to divert attention.

"Please do not mind him. Should we not give you our names as well, Ms. Chetankilash?" Wolf asks.

"Nah, I'll get ta know your names as we talk. And just call me Danielle, my last name's pretty tough to keep sayin' over and over," Danielle waves her hand quickly, wanting to get down to business already. "Anyway, like I was sayin', I overheard you two talkin' 'bout possibly cashin' in on some easy quests, and it just so happens that I've got a quest locked down, it's just a matter 'a havin' a few helpers comin' along so that I don't risk busting my own ship."

"What is your ship, if I may ask?" Wolf crunches on a bite of fish, which he can tell by taste is the meat of the Ull'yander tropical fish, a common edible fish breed exported from Aquas, the most productive planet in the Federation galaxy for seafood.

"A DASR-12, but on my last quest, I ran into a few asteroid beacons in a row without having my shields powered, so I had to come back here for immediate repairs after I was done with that quest," Danielle says without hesitation. "That's why - "

"Whoa, whoa, a DASR-12!?" Mack seems both alarmed and ecstatic at the same time. "That's the ship that we heard was built with a Glaive Beam as its default weapon, right? _And _Cloaking?"

"Oh, so you've heard of it," Danielle seems pleased with herself. "And stop interrupting me, will ya?"

"Yeah, we heard about it while we were in prison, about how the Federation was looking to expand its fleet of cruisers in case of another Rebellion outbreak," Mack explains. "The guards were gossipin' nonstop about it when they first heard about the DASR-12."

"There was a DASR-12 that did dock with the correctional facility we were confined in about a year ago," Wolf notes calmly. "I do not recall you being there to see it dock, Mack."

Mack looks petrified in shock. "Bullshit! There was no way a DASR-12 docked in our prison!" Mack cries out.

"Unfortunate that you missed it, then. Anyway, please continue, Danielle."

"Right. So 'cause my ship's docked for repairs and I'm usin' the rest 'a my scrap to pay for its repairs 'n all, I got another quest that'll bring me back up to tops with before, but obviously I ain't got a ship, and leasin' one's gonna be a pain in the ass. So you boys in or what?"

"How much's the payout?" Mack asks first. "We gotta know the payout, and then negotiate how much we're gonna split it. I'm sayin' 70-30, 'cause this's our ship we're takin'."

"Let's see...the quest's total payout is...four hundred scrap...so..." the young female officer calculates the math in her head. "Yeah, I can settle for that, 'cause you're right, we're takin' your ship after all. By the way, what kinda ship you boys got?"

"A Federation Cruiser. The cruiser with the built-in weapons system," Wolf explains.

"Ooooh, interesting," Danielle's eyes light up. "What kinda weapons system does it have?"

"I would say, but I do admit that I'm rather concerned about disparaging this information to someone who claims to be ex-Federation," Wolf says quickly. "I do believe we must earn each other's trust before critical information is shared. For all we are aware, you could very well be a Federation officer drawing Federation police forces onto our position."

Sighing, Danielle pulls from her back pocket a folded-up piece of paper, and by the faded edges, Wolf and Mack can tell that it is quite an old piece of paper she has been carrying around. Unfolding it and handing it to Wolf first, Danielle shrugs.

"That's proof right there that I really am ex-Federation," Danielle frowns. "If you don't believe me still, I don't know what else I can do for ya."

The paper is a Federation-style wanted poster with Danielle's official Federation military portrait plastered on it. Danielle's portrait looks visibly younger, at least a few years' worth.

"So you're kinda like us, then," Mack deduces. "What does the Federation want you for, then?"

"At the Battle 'a D&amp;G, I was part of the Skycats, the Federation 40th Cruiser Battalion. I was a captain then. Me 'n my boys got hit hard first when the Rebel Flagship jumped right on top 'a us, and the rest 'a us had to jump away, since there wasn't much we could'a done against the friggin' Rebel Flagship. After we heard that the Flagship got defeated 'n the Rebellion was startin' to break apart, me 'n the rest 'a the Skycats returned to our original post for duty, but we got detained on grounds 'a disloyalty 'n desertion, which was fucking bullshit, since we were all just trying to get away from a fight we knew we couldn't win. We tried explaining that to the Federation, but they didn't want to hear it, so we didn't have a choice but to shoot our way out. Only my DASR-12 and my friend Heather's Kestrel made it outta that, too, and ever since then I've been on the run, just doing side quests like these over 'n over to make ends meet. I mean, it's fun 'n all, but I kinda wish things went a bit differently."

Danielle waves her hand dismissively.

"But enough with my own stupid sob story. The point is, you can trust me not to report you to the Federation, 'cause that's just stupid for me to do anyway. And now that the Rebellion's over, I don't really care that you've broken out of prison, I've got my own problems to worry about. So you in or what?"

Wolf and Mack glance at each other over Danielle's head, since they are both taller than she is. Mack gives Wolf a rapid nod.

"Very well, we shall join you for this quest, but we are not sure about future endeavors just yet," Wolf says cautiously. "We shall use this collaborative quest to determine if our partnership is worth it in the future."

"Sure, that's fine, I just need this portion 'a scrap from this quest to ease the repair costs I gotta pay up for my own ship later once repairs for the thing get done," Danielle nods quickly again. "So can I actually get around to explainin' our quest now?"

"Impatient lil' gal, ain't'cha?" Mack comments with a chuckle, sipping on his Pang'arn Cocktail, which, to his surprise, he's found to be quite the refreshing drink.

"More like business-oriented. I don't like feelin' like I'm wasting my time," Danielle snaps back. "So about this quest: like I said, it's a simple quest, really. All we need to do is escort a Majubark-Class cargo tanker that's docked here in Lorraine Black over to the Zekamashi Mining Colony a few beacon jumps away from here. You can take a look at the exact coordinates here, it's within the same sector, even." Wolf and Mack lean in to see for themselves. "And like I said before, it's four hundred scrap just for this little escort jump. The captain 'a our cargo tanker's transporting lots of expensive mining equipment, so he's willing to pay a pretty penny for some good escort services. However, that bein' said, he _is _looking for a really strong ship to escort his tanker. I've already met with the guy and I know what he's roughly lookin' for, so I just need you boys to take me to your ship so I can take a look at it. Or, better yet, just tell me what it's got, and I'll see if it's good enough for the job."

"Our ship has Level 1 Piloting, Level 1 Shielding, Level 3 Engines, a Medbay, Level 1 Doors, Level 1 Sensors, Level 1 Oxygen, Hull Missile Artillery Weapon Subsystem, and Level 5 Weapons with an Artillery Laser Mk. I and a Burst Laser Mk. II," Wolf lists off all of his ship's specifications that he can remember off the top of his head.

Impressed, Danielle nods. "That's more than enough. Defense sounds a bit lacking, but with those three weapons, that's gonna be enough to scare most pirates off who're wanderin' around in this sector. Now, we just need to go find that cargo tanker captain and tell 'im that we're in for the job."

"Whoa, whoa, hold on, holy shit, we're still eating, hello?" Mack calls as if in reminder to Danielle, waving his ham griller in front of her face. "Can't'cha at least wait for us to finish eating? That possible?"

Danielle rolls her eyes impatiently as ever, but she doesn't say anything back as she waits for the men to finish their meals.

"We can buy you something if you'd like," Wolf offers. "Should I call the waiter?"

Danielle looks hesitant. "Er...I dunno 'bout that..."

"Think of it as a token of our new partnership."

Sighing, Danielle capitulates. "Fine, fine. Just...just a Grakite sandwich'll do."

Wolf calls over the Engi waiter, who comes scurrying over on his nifty little Segway-like apparatus and takes their order. As he scurries back away into the kitchen, Danielle gazes after it.

"Sure wish I had an Engi with me still," the ex-Federation officer sighs wistfully.

"You sound like you've been solo'ing it up for the past however many months," Mack murmurs, chewing.

"That's because I literally was."

"Shit, girl. For how long?"

"Eight or nine months?"

Mack drops what's left of his ham griller.

"_Eight or nine months? __Solo!?"_

"Yeah, yeah, it's amazing, I know, get over it," Danielle rolls her eyes again. "Honestly, now that the Federation's been tidying up their loose ends, it's been getting easier and easier for solo guys like me to keep goin' solo, so as long as you're playing it smart and safe, it's not like it's all that bad doing everything by yourself. Though, I'll admit to getting pretty damn lucky lots of the time."

Mack shakes his head, still in disbelief. "But still...eight or nine _months_...?"

"Never mind the small details, Lil' Mac."

"I really don't like you callin' me that, I'm obviously the tallest one outta everyone here..."

"Your confidence in me doesn't sound anywhere near as it should be, though."

"Wha - yeah, _okay_, you're askin' me to be confident in ya when we _just fuckin' met - "_

"Oi, you two."

A gruff voice coming from behind the newly partnered trio demands their attention, and they turn around sharply to see who has called them. A pair of men, still in their gray shipboard spacesuits, walk up to Wolf, Mack, and Danielle to confront them.

"You two are escaped convicts from the Thlarian Correctional Station, aren't you?" the human on the left asks loudly, and a few of the other patrons in the tavern turn in their seats to see what the commotion is all about, including the Rockman waiter, who, sensing a potential disturbance, begins to lumber over to make sure the situation does not get out of hand.

"And so what if we are, buddy?" Mack simply crosses his arms and grins haughtily at his fellow human. "What're _you _gonna do 'bout it?"

The human on the right narrows his eyes at Mack, disapproving of his inappropriate attitude. "Judging by your reaction, I'm going to assume that you're not aware of who we are, do you?"

"I mean, you already seem to know who we are, so can't you obviously deduce for yourself that after two years bein' cooped up in a goddamn slammer, we basically don't know who you are and don't give a shit?"

"They're members 'a the Galactic Detention Services," Danielle explains quickly, not taking her eyes off their adversaries, "basically a mercenary or bounty hunter group whose expressed purpose is ta hunt down wanted persons, like prison escapees or other criminals. You wouldn't know them, they formed about a month after the Rebel Flagship was beaten."

Mack shrugs. "Makes sense, I s'pose. I mean, you guys gotta have _some _way ta make ends meet, I understand completely!"

"And _you _don't seem to understand what kind of situation you're in," the human on their left states firmly. "Submit to our authority, or we _will _take you by force." He and his partner of the GDS pull from their belts expandable plasma batons, and by clicking the buttons on the hilt of their batons, they coat the shafts of their melee weapons with a soft shield of electrical plasma. The Engi waiter, who has rolled over in his little Segway apparatus, quickly scurries away again in fright of the impending violence.

"I thought Lorraine Black wasn't supposed to have bounty hunters around," Wolf hisses into Danielle's ear urgently, eyeing the electrical batons. A few of the guards at Thlarian used to carry those around on them, and they would stun any part of the human body they came into contact with, much like a taser, so getting hit by one of those things now would mean nothing but bad things for them.

"Yeah, well...there're always some who'll try," Danielle hisses back. "Leave these guys to me."

Danielle approaches the pair of bounty hunters first, who eye her suspiciously.

"Miss, I don't know what your relationship is with 'em, but you're gonna have to get out of our way, we don't want to be hurting anyone else if we don't have to," the human on the right says as Danelle walks up to them.

"Aw, shucks, I just struck up a business deal with 'em," Danielle smirks. "And unfortunately for you, I ain't the type ta just ditch a good business deal when I see one. You'd understand too, right? You're nothin' more 'n bounty hunters, after all."

"Right, then...if you'll excuse us," the bounty hunter on the left rolls his eyes, then twirls his baton quickly and swings it down on Danielle's head. She raises her left arm to block it, and the plasma baton crackles like a series of gunshots that fills the tavern, prompting the other customers of the tavern who aren't aware of the confrontation to jump in their seats in surprise. But instead of suffering a stunned left arm, Danielle quickly twists her left arm, grabs her attacker's elbow, yanks him towards herself, and pops a punch in his face, knocking him backwards and disarming him. Snatching the falling baton out of the air by crouching and grabbing the weapon with her right hand, Danielle ducks to dodge the other mercenary's swing and pivots on her foot, smacking the second human in his left shin with his own partner's plasma baton, and he buckles with a loud grunt of pain and collapses onto the floor, holding his stunned shin. Danielle gets back up, clicking the plasma off.

"Are you confident in my skills now?" Danielle grins at Mack as she tosses the plasma baton back to its original owner.

"More like, what the hell was that? Isn't your arm supposed to be hurtin' like a bitch right now?" Mack asks in quiet disbelief. The Rockman waiter, having arrived on the scene, gives a short bow of apology to Wolf, Mack, and Danielle and proceeds to drag the mercenaries of the GDS out of the tavern.

"Cybernetic limbs," Wolf deduces, noting the electrical crackles that ring around Danielle's left arm.

"Yup. I lost my arms during a skirmish durin' the Rebellion," Danielle explains nonchalantly, flexing her arms. "We got hit by a fuckin' Breach missile right in Piloting, and my arms got shredded up so bad that I just had to amputate 'em. Now let's get a move on if you boys're done eatin', we don't know if more of 'em're gonna arrive or not."

Wolf drains the rest of his Halcyon water, and Mack stuffs the last bite of ham griller into his mouth before they quickly leave the tavern.

"Why don't you just get replacement arms?" Wolf suggests as they quickly hurry back to the central teleportation hub.

"I always thought about it, but I never actually got 'round ta actually gettin' 'em," Danielle just shrugs again. "I mean, cybernetic technology's been around since forever, so I don't really feel anythin' different about using cybernetic arms and normal biological arms. Plus, direct limb reproduction's expensive as shit, so I never bothered. Maybe once I make enough scrap to lay off quest runs for a while I'll think about it again, but for now..."

"So where're we goin' now?" Mack asks. "Wolf, we also need ta get a spare change 'a clothes. We can't keep runnin' around like this in our prisoner uniforms, those GDS guys're gonna show up again like motherfuckin' carcass flies."

"Agreed. Danielle, if you could spare us some time, we'd like to procure for ourselves some different articles of clothing."

"You can do that after we meet with the captain 'a the cargo tanker. His name's Qwerty, so remember it."

"Lemme guess, he's an Engi."

"Oh, boy, how'd you know..." Danielle drones in a monotone voice of feigned surprise as they reach the teleportation hub. Stepping onto a vacant portal, Danielle calls to the men, "Floor Sixteen! I'll see you boys up there!"

They warp up to Floor Sixteen, a relatively calm floor with only a few people walking about their business while everyone else on the floor seems to be sitting about in small metal tables with what appear to be lightpoles next to them. Some of them are lit up with green or red lights, others are not lit up at all. Danielle leads her new partners over to one of these metal tables, whose lightpole displays no such light. The sole occupant, indeed an Engi sitting at the table holding a newspaper titled _The Lorraine Black Commerce _by levitation, sets down his newspaper on the table and flashes the green lights in his eyes with confirmation when he sees the humans arrive.

"Escort captain, acknowledged," the Engi nods as the humans confront the Engi captain. "Unidentified humans. Requesting identification."

"Wolf and Mack, I've picked 'em up to help us with your tanker run," Danielle explains shortly. "I told you that my ship's down for repairs and that I'd go find people who would have a ship to do the escort run for you, so here they are."

"Orders recalled and confirmed. Identification of partners logged and saved, 'Wolf' and 'Mack'," Qwerty nods again, picking up his little captain's hat and setting on his own head with both metallic flippers. Now he looks like a biotic penguin with a naval hat on. "Requesting details of escort vessel."

"Level 1 Piloting, Level 1 Shielding, Level 3 Engines, a Medbay, Level 1 Doors, Level 1 Sensors, Level 1 Oxygen, Hull Missile Artillery Weapon Subsystem, and Level 5 Weapons with an Artillery Laser Mk. I and a Burst Laser Mk. II," Wolf repeats.

"Offensive capabilities 177% satisfactory; defensive capabilities 34% satisfactory. Conditions acceptable. Mission feasibility 94% success. State time of initiation?"

Danielle turns to the men. "When do you boys wanna leave?"

"In a bit, we'll change clothes real quick and head right off. Gotta make dat bank, man!" Mack grins, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.

"So how long's that gonna take?"

"Maybe...an hour?"

Danielle turns back to face the Engi captain again. "An hour."

Qwerty nods and picks up his newspaper again. The men watch the Engi read his newspaper.

"I've always wondered how the hell that works," Mack mumbles, pointing to Qwerty and his newspaper.

"Well...Engis are fast readers. They're just all-around super smart, y'know," Danielle remarks.

"No, I mean the whole levitation thing...how's he holdin' the newspaper like that, is what I'm askin'.

"Engis can manipulate matter on an atomic scale with their hands with their specialized internal power source. That's how they are renowned for their strong repairing abilities. Given that their hands are not the most optimized for lifting and carrying objects, they simply channel their power through their hands to mimic a levitation force to hold light objects like a newspaper," Wolf explains.

"Well, shit, shoulda known ta jus' ask you, you friggin' nerd."

"Excuse me, what century is this that the word 'nerd' is still being used a derogatory remark?"

Danielle bops them both on the head. "Oh, shut up, you two, just buy some different clothes already so we can go."

* * *

An hour and half later, after changing out their clothes to generic plain black uniforms, Wolf and Mack board their hijacked Federation Cruiser, painted a standard Federation light gray. Danielle, before boarding after them, scowls at the ship's exterior before heading in and joining Mack at Piloting.

"You boys really ought'a get a new paintjob. They can track hijacked ships just from the exterior, y'know," Danielle informs Mack.

"Well, 'cuse me for not havin' the time ta get a new fuckin' paintjob, who do we look like, Rebel officers?"

"You were one, weren't you?"

"Not anymore, we're broke as a joke 'n wanted in this entire damn sector, whaddya want from us."

Danielle glances at the Piloting console. "So, I guess, the more important question here is, which one 'a us's gonna be pilot?"

"I don't know what ta think with you on Piloting, sorry," Mack shakes his head. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I can't risk puttin' our lives in the hands 'a someone we just barely met."

"Still not confident in me, are ya?"

"No, it's not that, I'm just takin' precautions. Don't twist my words around here."

Danielle smirks. "Fine, I get it. I'll go manage engines, then."

"You got training in engines?"

"I'm fully trained in everything," Danielle calls as she leaves the Piloting subsystem, causing Mack to whip around in shock when he hears it.

_"You're an FD!?" _Mack screams after her. "What the fuck, you could'a told us before!" The ex-Rebel pilot slams his fist on the intercom to communicate with Wolf in the Weapons Bay. "Yo, Wolf, Danielle just said she's an FD!"

"A Full Decker, huh? How fortunate. It's rare to come across Full Deckers nowadays, especially after the Rebellion. I suppose that would explain why her combat skill is so high, you saw what she did to those bounty hunters in the tavern," Wolf notes sagely.

Mack is brimming with excitement. "But seriously, this quest can't start off any better. We're all fully trained in our respective stations, and we're gonna make 280 more scrap with just a single escort run. This's gonna be sweet!"

"Don't be so enthusiastic just yet; one bad enemy ship and our quest run can come to a grinding halt," Wolf warns as Mack powers up the ship's engines. With a fully trained Engines specialist on the Engine controls, their ship powers up much more quickly. Lights along the floor of the huge dockyard point the way out of the black market hub station for them, and the Federation Cruiser lifts off and hovers its way out of the dockyard, exiting through a large porthole and ejecting out into the tranquil black, starlit vacuum of space.

"Circulating coordinates 'a our cargo tanker friend here..." Mack calls, triangulating Qwerty's Majubark-Class cargo tanker's position. The ship controls zero in on it and bring the ship up close to the port side of the cargo tanker, and Mack receives a confirmation signal from Qwerty, whose holographic image pops up on his console.

_"FTL on standby. Proceed?" _the Engi captain asks, adjusting his captain's hat straight.

"Whenever you want," Mack nods. "By the way, Qwerty, are you pilotin' that ship by yourself?"

_"Affirmative. Personnel requirements fulfilled by artificially generated holograms and drones. Manpower not needed."_

"If ya say so. We'll jump first, 'k?"

_"Affirmative."_

"Ready, you two?" Mack relays to his two partners in crime.

"Anytime!" Danielle calls from Engines, and Wolf gives a likewise reply from the Weapons Bay.

"Let's do it! Jumping!"

The FTL exhaust pipes pulse white, and the hull of the Federation Cruiser flashes white and disappears smoothly from view, its afterimage fading away quickly after its jump, and its companion cargo tanker does the same. The two ships subsequently arrive at the next beacon, where the Federation Cruiser, having arrived first, encounters what appears to be a pirate ship docked close to the beacon marker, judging by the rogue markings on its hull and distinct pirate-like paintjob. Mack receives an incoming transmission from this pirate ship, presumably from its captain.

_"Hi there! Nice of you to stop by our beacon. We're looking to do some business - just pay us some scrap, and we'll let you go on your merry way! How's 30 scrap sound? Pretty fair deal, right?"_

Mack simply deletes the transmission from his console.

"Guns up, Wolf!" Mack barks, slightly pissed off at the fact that pirates would ever think of holding beacon markers hostage as toll booths as "business".

"Why, what did their captain say?" Wolf asks, but he powers up the weapons anyway, and they begin to gather charge.

"They're basically usin' this beacon as a toll booth, these fuckin' beggar bastards. They may as well jus' be beggars!"

At the sign of the Federation Cruiser powering up its weapons, the pirate ship also jerks out of its low-powered state and enters combat readiness. By this time, Qwerty's cargo tanker ship also jumps into view, but seeing a battle about to erupt between the two ships, Qwerty makes sure to keep his own ship safe behind the Federation Cruiser, charging up his FTL drive just in case the Federation Cruiser doesn't make it out of this battle intact.

"Level 1 Shields, Dual Lasers, and a teleporting bomb weapon. This should be simple," Wolf analyzes the enemy ship.

"Wolf, remember that the Artillery Laser has Level 1 Shield Piercing!" Danielle reminds the weapons specialist. "Fire the Artillery Laser first at the shields, then fire the Burst Laser! You may as well, since there's no way for us to get away without taking at least some damage!"

"Acknowledged," Wolf grins as he paints the enemy Shield Bay as the Artillery Laser's target. Many a fledgling weapons specialist whom Wolf has seen would simply fire all weapons the moment they were fully charged, but a seasoned weapons operator would know better than to waste precious charge on weapons systems; instead, they would always look for the most optimal ways to deal the most amount of damage with the least amount of volleys. Oftentimes the weapons operator would be the crutch of the ship, and too often has the structural integrity of his own former ship, the _Musketeer, _once relied upon his skill to get it and its crew out of fierce battles in one piece. This being said, it is nice to know that Danielle is showing the expertise that he would expect out of a Full Decker, the term given to any ship personnel fully trained in all aspects of ship management, from Shield Operating to combat skill.

However, Wolf knows that the enemy's weapon systems will be able to fire its lasers faster than they can fire theirs, and because they won't know what kind of bomb launcher the enemy ship has until it actually fires, Wolf must hope that it is an Ion Bomb launcher, which has a very long charge time of twenty-two seconds by default.

"Incoming!" Wolf calls, his heart starting to beat faster with the age-old familiar battle adrenaline as he watches the enemy's Dual Lasers spurt out two javelins of laser energy at them.

"I see 'em, deployin' evasive maneuvers...!" Mack calls back, and gritting his teeth in concentration, Mack flurries his hands over the Piloting console, trying to get the ship to dodge the incoming attack, but despite having a 35% dodge percentage, the lasers hit home both times, momentarily depleting its Shields and punching into its hull. The impact of the damaging laser shot shakes the ship a bit.

"Status report!?" Danielle demands. "That could've caused a fire!"

"No fires, repeat, no fires, don't worry! Keep at it!" Mack waves it off. "Wolf, our weapons are online! Take the sh - "

Wolf answers his ex-Rebel comrade with a press of a button, and the Federation Cruiser rumbles with the thundering blast of a powerful surge of laser energy from its Artillery Laser Mk. I gun. The green streak of light powers through the empty space at nearly 30% faster speed than the enemy's laser blasts, but unfortunately, it misses its mark - the enemy ship has successfully deployed evasive maneuvers on its own.

"Tch..." Wolf can't hide his disappointment. "That would have done a number on them..." He orders the Burst Laser Mk. II to follow up, this time at its weapons, and the good ol' reliable laser gun pulses thrice with three bolts of purple light, and all three lasers hit their mark, successfully shutting off both enemy weapons.

"Nice, their Weapons Bay's at red!" Mack reports excitedly, reading their enemy's system integrity. "Now all we need to do is finish them off, they don't look like they can take any more!"

"Copy that."

With the enemy crew surely busy trying to desperately bring their weapons back online, Wolf and his crew simply have to wait for their weapons to charge once more, and following the same offensive strategy as before, Wolf deploys the Artillery Laser gun first at the enemy's Shields before firing the Burst Laser, and this time, the Artillery Laser strikes its target with an impressive shower of green laser energy. The strike tears through the enemy's Shield Bay and sends a flood of ship debris out the other side, indicating a successful breach, and as Mack cheers on the breach attack, Wolf delivers the final blow with a second burst from the Burst Laser. With no one manning either Piloting or Engines in the enemy vessel, all three hits from the Federation Cruiser's laser weapon land, and unable to resist any more hull damage, the enemy pirate ship gives one last cough of exhaust and gas before breaking apart where it hovers in space, releasing its debris into the vacuum of space.

"Hell yeah, that's how all our fights should go!" Mack claps and whoops like a football player cheering on his team's touchdown.

"Danielle, what are the terms of salvaging enemy ship wreckages?" Wolf asks.

"We'll keep our deal as it was, 70-30, why not," Danielle responds back.

"And what about Qwerty? Will he want to partake in any salvageable loot as well?"

"No, he's already told me that we can keep all the scrap 'n anythin' else that comes from wreckages of ships we beat. Mack, tell Qwerty that we're gonna take some time to loot up the wreckage."

"Will do!"

After communicating to Qwerty the Engi captain with the funny naval hat, Mack pilots the Federation Cruiser about the wreckage, using the ship's loading arms to bring in any salvageable pieces of debris that can be converted into scrap in the ship's cargo bay and any other supplies that are floating about intact. In total, the ship salvages 13 scrap, two FTL fuel canisters, and one missile.

"Nice, just three more jumps. This'll be a cinch!" Mack laughs. He's never been on such an easy mission before. "Are all quests like this nowadays? God, if I knew these were gonna be so easy, I woulda quit bein' a Rebel a long time ago!"

"You say that now, but quests can always go really, really wrong, really, really fast," Danielle says ominously. "Just stay on your guard, yeah? It's just for everyone's safety. I don't really want anyone dyin' on any 'a my missions."

"Mack, how much scrap do we have right now?" Wolf asks.

"With those scrap cards I used ta pay for our meals, we're sittin' on 311 scrap."

"I elect that we use some of that scrap to acquire Level 2 Shields. What do you say, Danielle?"

"Yeah, Level 2 Shielding's always a great idea. It goes well with our Level 3 Engines, too."

"Awww, are ya kiddin'? Let's just save our scrap for when we come back to Lorraine Black. I saw lots'a cool ship weapons on sale when we were headin' back to the dockyards. We could pick up hella cool guns, y'know! See what that Artillery Laser thingy did? I bet there're tons 'a weapons they've developed after the Rebellion ended, and I wanna see 'em, maybe even buy a couple 'n use 'em! It's not like we're in danger or anythin', we can clear all these beacons with our guns easy!"

"Hmm...he _does _have a point, if all of the possible enemies we encounter are gonna be as simple as the one we just beat, then there really isn't a point in gettin' a second Shield layer just yet," Danielle agrees. "I'm either or. What about you, Wolf? After all, this ain't my ship..."

"Very well, we shall save our scrap. Let's just hope we don't regret it," Wolf sighs.

"Cool, cool! On to the next beacon, FTL's online! C'mon, Qwerty, we're jumpin'!"

The Federation Cruiser bounces back into FTL, and so does its companion cargo tanker, and the beacon marker is now left empty, with only the small field of scattered, unsalvageable debris floating about awkwardly near the beacon marker.


End file.
